by Shauna Allen
He nodded. “Take your time.”
I ran back to my bedroom, texted Grace that I’d be there, then stared at my closet for a while. Slim pickings, but I settled on jeans, a red halter top, and strappy sandals. I let my hair down from its ponytail to fall in loose waves down my back and applied some quick recovery mascara, red lipstick, and perfume.
Good enough. It was probably going to be dark, and I’d be sitting with Grace anyway.
I grabbed my purse and was torpedoed by a sudden memory of another night when I’d gotten ready, much like this, only I was much younger and much more naïve. Grace and I were going to sneak out and go meet my boyfriend, Pedro, whose father worked for mine. I don’t even remember what we were planning to do . . . all I remember was that I was crazy about him. Crazy about how he made me feel—free and happy and in love. Then it all got ripped away from me in one horrific, bloody moment, and my life was never the same.
DeAndre’s deep voice carried down the hallway as he took a call, ripping the memory away.
I blinked back the hot burn of tears, sucked in a deep breath to get myself together, and bottled up the grief for the little girl lost as I headed back down the hall.
DeAndre spun toward me, phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, we’ll be—” He froze, mid-sentence, his eyes wide. “—right there.” He hung up without saying goodbye and took me in with one long, appraising and appreciative sweep of his eyes. “Wow. You look amazing.”
I wanted to play coy and act as if I’d thrown on any old thing or hadn’t considered that I wanted to look beautiful for him, but that would be a lie.
It would also be a lie to say I didn’t want him to kiss me. To touch me so I could see the way all of his dark flesh would look pressed against mine in the pale moonlight. The way it would feel inside of mine.
And it would also be the biggest lie to say that I didn’t decide in that very moment that I had suffered enough at the hands of brutal men . . . it was time for me to have a taste of what I wanted for once.
DeAndre
The bar wasn’t too crowded, even for a Monday night. Summers in Oceanside, California tended to always be busy, but for some reason, tonight was low-key, not that I was complaining.
Brianne didn’t say much on the ride over, content to study the scenery as we drove past, but something about her was different since our dinner. She’d never touched me like that before, and I hadn’t missed the way her eyes ate me up. Sure, I’d felt the spark of attraction before this, but tonight—tonight was new, though I had no idea why.
I was careful to keep a friendly distance as I walked her to the door of the bar while still remaining close enough to protect her, always mindful of my duty. I did a quick visual sweep of the parking lot and entry for any potential threats. Everything was clear.
Inside, the air smelled pleasantly of beer and some sort of lemon-scented cleaner. A live band was just getting started on the small stage, playing soft rock throwbacks. Next to me, Brianne’s flowery shampoo filtered up to my nose, making me want to run my fingers through those long, blonde locks.
Wolf, Caroline, and a few of his teammates were spread out near the pool tables, except for Abe and Alabama, who understandably stayed home to wait for word on his sister in England. We waved as we passed by on our way to the back, where my team was sitting. We received a few curious glances from other patrons and a couple of openly hostile stares as we continued on, which I ignored. I was used to occasionally being judged by the color of my skin, but apparently it was amplified by being in the company of a white woman, even in twenty-first century California. I shot her a quick glance, but she appeared oblivious, her gaze locked on her friend.
Grace jumped up from her barstool and rushed over to collect her in a hug, while I slid in next to her husband, Lucky, swallowing the sting of my anger as my friends surrounded me. I did not need anyone’s approval in this fucking place.
“What’s up, Tito?” Lucky tipped his beer bottle my way, silently asking if I wanted one.
I nodded and flagged down the waitress for a beer. “Not much.”
His gaze slid over to the two women. “I’m glad you brought her along. Grace has missed her.” He looked back to me. “We worry about her cooped up in that apartment all by herself.”
I thanked the waitress and paid for my beer then took a sip. “Like I told her, man, she’s not our prisoner. She’s free to come and go whenever she wants. Hell, she’s free to go to your place if she wants. See Grace, go shopping, or do whatever it is women do.”
“Yeah, I told Grace that, too. She’s been by to visit several times, but she says she’s being stubborn about not leaving the apartment. It’s like she’s determined to see this through, and she’s not budging until we take down Shadeek. That’s why I’m kinda surprised you got her outta there tonight. How’d you do it?”
I shrugged and sipped again. “I just asked her, man.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Just asked, he says. Wow.”
I opened my mouth to reiterate my command from earlier that he keep his thoughts to himself, but the two women joined us. Grace looped an arm around Lucky’s waist, her dazzling smile aimed my way. “Thank you for bringing Bri tonight.”
I nodded. “My pleasure.” I felt Brianne’s eyes on my profile, so I turned to her. “You want a drink?”
“I’d love one.”
I waved down the same waitress and paid for both women’s girly drinks plus another round for my entire team and their women.
I let my shoulders relax as my gaze roamed around the joint. Everyone was having a good time, smiling and laughing. Happy. Yes, we had a serious mission on our hands and a heavy burden to bear, but we were entitled to one night to cut loose, a few moments to blow off some steam, or we were in danger of imploding from the stress. As their leader, I knew this as well as anyone. It was part of my training.
I glanced over and studied Brianne’s profile as she smiled and chatted with Grace. Delicate and feminine, you would never suspect she was a deadly computer hacker, capable of infiltrating virtually any classified network, given enough time and resources. Her brain amazed me. It was a thing of beauty that truly rivaled the body that encased it.
Huge, sparkling blue eyes met mine, and I knew I was caught with every fanciful thought right there on my face for her to read. “Dance with me?” she said, surprising me with her boldness.
A few of the other guys were already out on the dance floor with their women, swaying to the ‘70s’ love song.
She stood and held out her hand. “Please?”
The uncertainty on her face did me in. She thought I was going to turn her down, and I knew in that moment that I could hurt her.
Never.
I uncoiled to stand and took her hand, leading her to the dance area without a word and taking her into my arms. She was quite a bit smaller than me, but she fit perfectly right into my chest as she wrapped her arms around my waist and tucked her face into my shoulder as if she’d been born to do it.
We swayed to “Three Times a Lady,” and my mind began to spin with way too many fantasies of her being my lady. Still, for those few moments that I held her in my embrace, I let myself go there without shutting it down and calling myself a fool.
Her fingers moved slowly along my back muscles, tracing tiny circles as her warm breath moved through my shirt to my flesh, making me ache with need. She shifted her head to tilt it inward, closer to my chin, and I would’ve sworn she whispered my name as one of her hands came up to my chest in a fist over my heart.
Somehow, we’d ended up in the farthest, darkest corner of the dance floor, away from everyone else. We stopped moving as I simply held her in my arms, the music and our ragged breathing our only backdrop. Even those who might stare at us fell away to nothingness.
I cupped my hand over her fist on my chest. She lifted her eyes to mine, and I knew it then, as certainly as I knew anything . . . I was in deep trouble. I could fight it all I wanted, deny it, run away, hide
from the truth—but it was right there, staring me in the face through the biggest, bluest, most honest eyes I’d ever known.
Brianne Kennard was going to either be the death or the life of me.
It was going to be up to us to determine how our story unfolded, but I had to decide first if I was willing to turn the page and keep reading.
Her gaze glided over my face, taking me in, bit by bit, as if memorizing me. Slowly, her other hand moved up to cup my jaw. “You,” she murmured as the music died between songs.
“Me, what?”
“Just you.”
Before I could ask her what she meant by that, the guys called to us, severing the moment, and I had to admit a part of me was relieved. “Red’s got something to say,” Lucky shouted.
I nodded, letting my hand drop as she stepped back.
I led Brianne back to the table where we picked up our drinks, silently agreeing to act like nothing had happened, and thankfully nobody seemed to have noticed, or at least they were smart enough to keep quiet.
Tex leaned over and mumbled something to Brianne, putting me instantly on alert, but she simply smiled, letting me know it was nothing to do with the case, her blue eyes seeking out mine quickly before sliding back to his as she replied.
Tap, tap, tap . . . someone tapped the microphone, and conversation quieted to a dull roar. “Is this thing on?”
The hell? When had Red gotten on stage? I shot a quick look to Danielle’s beet-red face as she shook her head and slunk down on her barstool.
“Can everyone hear me?” he went on, shielding his eyes from the stage lights and searching the crowd.
Everyone hooted and hollered, the teams loudest of all.
“You gonna sing for us?” Maverick heckled.
“Hell no,” Red replied with a grin. “I won’t torture these good people with all that. But I do have something I need to say. Danielle, baby, will you come up here please?”
She hesitated, but Caroline pushed her gently. “Might as well go on and get it over with.”
Brianne looked to me in question, but I just shrugged. I had no idea what that knucklehead was up to. They were already married, so it couldn’t be a proposal. No telling where my team was concerned, so I just settled back with my beer to enjoy the show.
Danielle stumbled up to the front of the stage as everyone else cleared the dance floor with indulgent smiles.
Red hopped down, microphone in hand as the band looked on with grins, obviously in on the secret. He gripped her waist in his palm as he spoke, his eyes riveted on her face. “I thought I was the happiest man in the world the day this gorgeous woman agreed to be my wife, but I have to say I was wrong. The day she became my bride was even more special. And I was convinced that nothing, ever in my life, could possibly top that moment until today . . . until this morning . . .”
Danielle’s face melted in understanding, tears pooling and streaming down her cheeks. “Drew,” she murmured, clutching his arms. “What are you doing?”
“Sharing our love, baby. There’s so much ugliness in the world. This is something good. Something perfect and good. Why keep it to ourselves?” Without another word, he reached around and handed the microphone back to the lead singer and collected Danielle into his arms as the band broke into their next song . . .
“You’re Having my Baby” by Paul Anka.
It took about two point five seconds for the crowd to go absolutely insane, the teams rushing the happy couple with hugs and congratulations.
I hung back with Brianne, who was obviously not comfortable with joining in, though her expression told me everything I needed to know—she longed to fit in, to be a part of the group.
She caught my eye. “No need to stay here with me. You should go over there.”
“I will in a bit.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, watching everyone talk and smile and dance. “Can I ask you something?” she asked after a while.
“Sure.” I tipped back the last of my beer.
“It’s personal,” she warned.
I shot her a look of warning. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why ask a personal question?”
“Because I’m curious.”
Something pinched in my gut. I’d been curious about her, too, but I’d kept it to myself. Why couldn’t she do the same?
Out on the dance floor, half of my team danced with their women, and Wolf took Melody for a spin while Tex looked on with unreadable eyes, making me wonder if he’d ever danced, even before he had a prosthetic leg.
“DeAndre?”
My focus snapped back to Brianne. I sighed, resigned. We’d be working together for the foreseeable future. Might as well answer her question, as long as it wasn’t too personal. “What do you want to know?”
She leaned in as if going for the kill. “Just one thing.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Are you single?”
Brianne
I had to give him credit, he barely flinched.
Those cool green eyes raked my face as if he couldn’t believe my question. “Excuse me?”
I smiled, liquid courage flowing through my system. “You heard me, Marine.” I used my index finger to poke his chest with each word for emphasis. “Are. You. Single?” I curled said finger under the lapel of his shirt, giving it a gentle tug. “It’s not a hard question. A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will suffice.”
“I’m not sure how to answer that,” he admitted.
“How about honestly?” I felt some of that courage fading. Had I imagined our spark of attraction? Well, honestly, it felt like more than a simple spark—a live wire was more like it. I might die of mortification if it was all one-sided.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Why does one usually want to know these things, DeAndre?” Now I was getting pissed. Was he fucking with me? I might be a part of a job or whatever, but I was still a human being with feelings. The least he could do was—
“Hold that thought,” he said, pausing to stand and congratulate Drew and Danielle when they were finally free of the crowd.
They chatted for a few minutes, and I watched him objectively. Yes, I was physically attracted to him like I hadn’t been attracted to a man in a very long time—maybe ever. Strong and virile, he just did something to every girly part of my body. But, more than that, I was drawn to what was inside of him, and I had been since the first night we met. He was kind and strong and smart and noble in every way that mattered. He was everything I ever wanted in a man—everything that every man in my life before now had never been.
And, yes, I was fully aware that we had been thrown together in the strangest of circumstances, and there were probably a few shades of gray as far as the ethics of any type of personal relationship between us, but I never had been much of a rule follower . . .
He finished up with his friends and returned to me in a rush of masculine-scented nirvana. “So . . . where were we?”
Without a second thought, I stood and grabbed his hand, drawing him toward the exit, thankful he didn’t hesitate to follow. At this point, I didn’t care if he was merely curious or duty-bound or flat-out confused. I needed a minute to breathe and clear my head. I also needed a minute alone with him.
Outside, I kept moving, around the corner of the bar, far away from the noise of the crowds. I stopped when the music was a faint thrum and pressed my back to the warm brick of the wall. The rowdy chatter from inside was barely discernable from the hum of traffic and the push and pull of distant waves.
DeAndre stood silent just in front of me, his body language unsure but protective. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just needed a second.”
He nodded like he understood, his gaze skirting the vacant area around us with stealth, reminding me of the warrior he was, before honing back in on me.
The last dregs of my alcohol-induced bravery were waning, but I’d come too far to back down now. I swallowed
. Licked my lips. “So . . . my question?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, but, otherwise, he didn’t give any reaction. “Mine first.”
“Yours?” I frowned.
“Why do you want to know?” He folded his arms across his wide chest, showcasing his biceps in his white shirt. “It’s not exactly pertinent to our work together.”
“Good God, DeAndre. You’re going to make me spell it out?”
It was dark, but I would’ve sworn he bit back a smile. “Guess so.”
Pride warred with desire. I wanted to be bold so bad. But at what cost? He could shut me down so quickly, and then everything between us would be painfully awkward from here on out.
But what if he didn’t? a little voice in the back of my head whispered.
Fine. I tugged up my big girl panties. “I was wondering if you were single, DeAndre, because I’m attracted to you . . . though with the way you’re smirking at me right now, I’m not sure why . . . and I was hoping the feeling was mutual, otherwise I’ll have to have my head examined, because I was so certain . . .” I sucked in a breath, fought for the confidence I’d suddenly lost. “Please don’t make me feel like some sort of hormonal loser, fantasizing about the hot Marine while he just feels sorry for me.” Okay, maybe not the smoothest of lines. I cringed.
He was silent. Too silent.
I squeezed my eyes shut and wished the earth would just open up and swallow me whole. “Shit. Sorry. Forget I—”
He burst out laughing, and my eyes shot open. “Yes,” he managed between chuckles.
“Yes?”
He nodded, still belly laughing, apparently at my expense.
“Yes . . . you’re single, or yes, I’m a hormonal loser?” I hated the edge of uncertainty painting my voice.
His laughter died down as he took in my face. “You’re definitely not a loser, Brianne.”
“So . . .” I was afraid to hope. “Yes, you’re single?”
He took a step in my direction until there were only a few inches between us. My palms automatically pressed against the brick wall to keep from reaching for him. His hot gaze raked over each of my features in turn as if he didn’t quite know what to do with me. “Yes, I’m very much single.” His eyes lingered on my lips for a long, painful heartbeat. “And yes, the feeling is mutual . . . even though it shouldn’t be.”
